The Godfather
by dietplainlite
Summary: Some people would be surprised to learn that Sherlock Holmes made an excellent godfather, though those who knew his heart as well as it could be known were not surprised at all. He had, after all, been devoted to Charlotte Watson before her parents were even aware of her impending existence.


**A/N I do not own these characters and make no money from playing with them. **

**So what had happened with this story is that I made a silly text post on Tumblr. It blew up. I asked Tumblr user holnnes to draw the scene set in said text post. Hence, the beautiful cover image. Then this fic happened. **

Some people would be surprised to learn that Sherlock Holmes made an excellent godfather, though those who knew his heart as well as it could be known were not surprised at all. He had, after all, been devoted to Charlotte Watson before her parents were even aware of her impending existence.

His odd schedule and nearly inhuman ability to function without sleep made him a lifesaver for a couple who didn't have the luxury of having a grandmother stay for the first two weeks. Though they would really have preferred to have advanced notice of Sherlock's visits, rather than stumbling into the nursery at three in the morning to find Sherlock already there, mid nappy change. (Sherlock turned out to be extraordinarily adept at those, though Mary had to gently put a stop to his deducing her diet based on what he found in Charlotte's nappies.)

Mary was the only person more attuned to what Charlotte's varying cries meant, and he spent hours talking to her softly while Mary napped.

However, Charlotte was six months old before John and Mary needed Sherlock to look after her all on his own. Shortly after Mary's return to work, an outbreak of influenza led to John's surgery being overrun and Charlotte's crèche being closed. Mrs. Hudson was out of town and their usual emergency babysitter was down with the flu.

Sherlock hid his excitement under a thin veil of boredom as he listened to John's instructions.

"Keep her in the carrier as much as possible, yeah?" John had implored. "Don't want you rushing out to help Greg and leaving her behind."

"Really, John. Do you think I would do that?"

"You left me in Glasgow once because you forgot about me while I was brushing my teeth!"

"Fortunately Charlotte is far more interesting. We'll be fine," Sherlock said, ushering John out the door.

He settled her into the carrier, facing forward so that she could see what he was working on as he faced the wall above the sofa.

"Want to help me with this case?" he asked. "Just came in this morning. I think I've got it but I'll run it by you."

He kissed the top of her head, her fluffy curls brushing his nose. Sherlock knew-having read about it early on in Mary's pregnancy -that the baby's intoxicating scent was just another evolutionary trick designed to entice people into caring for helpless newborns. But like so many of the chemical reactions associated with love and caring, he had found himself falling prey. Not that he'd ever admit it.

"Now, Charlotte, let's focus. He points to a photo of a round, balding middle aged man with a pleasant face. "Mr. Holder owns a high end pawn brokerage on Chancery Lane. Yesterday, a young earl—Mr. Holder would not reveal his name—brought in a coronet, obviously a family heirloom, set with thirty nine large emeralds." Sherlock pointed to a photo of the diadem. Charlotte blew spit bubbles and laughed. "Mr. Holder lent the gentleman half a million pounds on a fourteen day loan, though its worth is easily twice that."

"Abuh buh buh," Charlotte said, waving her arms.

"Yes, obviously our earl has gotten himself in some trouble. Bad investments, most likely. But he's not really important." Sherlock pointed to another photo, a handsome but beleaguered looking blonde man in his early thirties. The photo revealed clear signs of excess drinking and stress. "Arthur Campbell, Holder's step son. His mother is deceased. Would be heir to the family business but Mr. Holder is quite rightfully worried he'd run it into the ground within a year. Enormous gambling problem."

"Brrrrrrrrr," Charlotte said, before erupting into giggles.

"Yes," Sherlock said, pointing to a photo of a pretty red haired woman in her mid-twenties. "Mary Holder, only daughter of Mr. Holder's deceased brother. She came to live with the family when she was a teenager and has worked in the brokerage since then as well. Mr. Holder advised me that Arthur has unrequited feelings for Miss Holder, but she has refused his advances more than once." He pointed to a photo of a gorgeous south Asian girl in her late teens. "Lucy Parr, works in the shop part time. New to the business but from a good family and has excellent references. Mr. Holder's only complaint is that there are several young men who come into the store regularly to flirt with her."

Charlotte babbled and grabbed Sherlock's forefinger. He smiled and patted her head with his other hand. "These two are the other employees. Full time, husband and wife, they've been with Mr. Holder for ten years. He says they are above suspicion but they've been on holiday since last week anyway." He took a Sharpie from his pocket and crossed out both photos. He pointed to the photo of a man in his late twenties with movie star good looks and overly white teeth.

"Now, the only remaining player is Mr. George Burnwell, friend of Arthur. Well, I say friend but Mr. Holder says he's nothing more than Arthur's drinking and gambling buddy. But apparently he's so charming that Mr. Holder can't bear to be rude when he comes over." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Back to the coronet. Holder secured it in the shop's safe as soon as the paperwork had been signed. He stated that both Miss Holder and Arthur knew the combination, and that Miss Parr may have been within earshot when Arthur joked with him about the combination being Mr. Holder's birthday."

"Meh meh meh" Charlotte said, sticking almost her entire fist in her mouth.

"Foolish, I know," Sherlock said, easing her hand out of her mouth and replacing it with a dummy. "The family lives in a loft above the shop. Miss Holder usually locks up, but Mr. Holder assisted her last night, as he was nervous about the coronet, since its value exceeded that of any other item in the shop many times over. While they were locking up, Miss Holder told him that she saw Lucy Parr talking with one of her male friends in the alley right before she came back in to count down the register drawer. Holder said he thought nothing of it at the time, since Miss Parr frequently goes outside to smoke and chat."

The baby waved her arms and kicked her legs.

"I agree. Nasty habit. That's one area in which I wish you won't follow in my footsteps. Now, fast forward to last night around midnight. Mr. Holder woke up, thinking he heard something downstairs. The main office with the safe is right below his bedroom. He went downstairs and found his step son standing in front of the opened safe, twisting the coronet as if to break it. He dropped it when Mr. Holder came in. My client of course assumed the worst and accused Arthur of attempting to steal the coronet. He would have just disowned him, but the coronet was missing a corner containing three large emeralds. Apparently Arthur has refused to say a word in his own defense, even after being arrested. There's nothing to be seen on the security footage, as it had been disabled half an hour before the theft, and the previous days' footage erased. So what do you think?"

Charlotte sucked on her dummy contemplatively.

"Of _course_ it's George Burnwell, in league with Mary Holder. Any fool can see it. They've likely been waiting for ages for just the right piece to come into the store to set them up for life. Miss Holder disabled and erased the security footage and got into the safe, after having tried to plant a seed of suspicion in her uncle's head regarding Miss Parr. Arthur must have witnessed Miss Holder passing the crown onto Burnwell, pursued him, and fought over it, resulting in a piece breaking off. When I examined the crown this morning there were tiny bits of leather caught in a few of the settings, from Burnwell's gloves, no doubt. When Mr. Holder caught him, Arthur, who was bare handed, wasn't attempting to break it, but bend it back into shape. Now why do you think the accused isn't defending himself?"

Charlotte spit out her dummy and grinned. "Deh, deh deh."

"Precisely. He's in love with Miss Holder and would rather take the fall himself than get her in trouble. So now we get to have a little outing. First, to jail to speak with Arthur, then to have a word with Mr. Burnwell."

Sherlock switched Charlotte around in the carrier so that her front was to him, turned to get his coat and had it on and out the door before he stopped to contemplate what he should bring along for the baby. Surely he didn't need everything in the ridiculously large bag John had brought along with Charlotte. But what were the essentials? He slipped his phone from his pocket and sent a text.

—Come to Baker St at once. Emergency—

The reply came quickly.

_—Is this an emergency or an 'emergency'?—_

—I'm babysitting.—

The next reply took slightly longer.

_—I'm an only child and I cut up bodies for a living. Why do you think I would know anything about babies?—_

She had a point. He'd never really heard Molly talk much about children, and she'd not shown more than a polite interest in Charlotte. She'd frankly seemed bored at the baby shower, though she hid it well, which had caused Sherlock some irritation, considering how much effort he'd put into planning it.

—Please come over. Working on a case. You can come along—

_—Be there in ten.—_

"Auntie Molly's coming over, " Sherlock said. "Hmmm. Might be a good idea to change you first, yes?"

Sherlock had just gotten Charlotte's shoes back on her feet when Molly entered.

"Er, you seem to have things under control. She looks happy?"

"Yes, she's generally cheerful," He said as he tucked Charlotte back in the carrier. "I only need some advice on what out of this ridiculous bag we should take along with us."

"Why not bring the whole bag?" Molly said. "It's not like it's emblazoned with rubber duckies or anything. It's a just a backpack."

"We can't possibly need all of that."

"Well, let's see what's in here," Molly said, hauling the bag to the table and unzipping it. "Nappies, wipes, change of clothes, wet bag, jacket, hat, teether, dummies, jar of applesauce, spoon, and a few granola bars. Those must be for the grownups. There's an insulated bag in here, too. Are her bottles in the fridge?"

"Yes, EBM."

"Excuse me?"

"Expressed breast milk."

"Right. So we should probably bring one or two of those, depending on how long we'll be out?"

"Do you really not know anything about babies? Didn't you ever babysit?"

"No. Did you?" she said, heading to the fridge. "I worked in a mortuary. Polished the caskets, occasionally helped with the makeup. Observed my fair share of embalmings. Hey these eyes are looking a little squishy, do you need any more?"

"If you have any handy," Sherlock said. She held the bottles out to him and he took the opportunity to pull her to his side and land a rather loud kiss on her lips. Charlotte squealed with delight and Molly blushed.

"So," Molly said, tucking her hair behind her ear. "You said you had a case?"

"Charlotte and I will tell you all about it on the way," Sherlock said, guiding her out the door.


End file.
